


Tempest Vitus

by Sinistretoile



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mental Instability, Night Terrors, Painting, Reader request, Sculpture, Sleepwalking, Songfic, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tempest: n. a severe storm with strong winds and heavy rain or snow</p><p>St. Vitus: protection against storms</p><p>Night terrors and migraine aren't all AU Tom is left with after a car accident takes everything from him. His neighbor Vivienne might be the only one to understand, to help but she knows tragedy as well. Can they heal each other? Weather the storm of grief and tragedy together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song fic inspired by Florence and the Machine 'Various Saints and Storms'
> 
> This one will hurt.

The wipers clicked and whumped a rapid rhythm back and forth in the down pour. She giggled and shivered in the passenger seat. Her wet hair snaked down the sides of her face and her back. She'd forgotten a hair tie that morning then complained the entire day about her neck being hot and her hair being in the way. Her wet clothes clung to her shapely body.  
What mattered to him the most was her hand on his knee. Tom glanced at her sideways. She hadn't stopped smiling since they'd gotten caught in the sudden storm. His large hand closed over hers. The car complained as the tires hit a puddle, but his strong arm held the wheel in check, guiding the Rover right through. Her fingers wrapped around his. He grinned as he brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers.  
"Tom, look out!" Her eyes widened in panic. He let go of her hand to grab the wheel as he slammed on the brakes. The red tail lights came up fast. He attempted to steer the Rover to the side to avoid rear-ending the car stopped dead in the road. No luck, the tires hit standing water and lost contact with the road surface and their traction. The vehicle began to slide and spin. The front end clipped the trunk of the stopped car. "Tom!"  
"Hang on! Hang on!" The Rover hit the ditch and rolled, coming to an abrupt stop on a downed tree. She wasn't wearing her safety belt. Her head hit the glass with a sickening wet thud. The vehicle groaned and shifted against the tree and the ground. "Baby! Baby, can you hear me! Answer me!" She didn't move. The glass splintered. Tom became aware of shouting. Flashing lights.  
Her eyes opened for a split second. "Tom?" The Rover lurched and began to tip. The glass gave way. He didn't hear her scream as she disappeared into the blotted night. He was too busy screaming as he watched his love, his life, his future disappear. The door whipped open and hands jerked him from the seat. The Rover groaned then tipped over into the rushing water of the flooded river. The last thing he saw were his own tail lights disappear into the flood.

The alarm screamed into the quiet morning. Tom slapped it then threw an arm over his face. It wasn't the clock's fault he had to be up this early. And after the nightmare, he was frankly thankful to be awake. Pain tore through his head. Migraine, an endless gift from the accident that took everything from him.  
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the bottle of aspirin on the nightstand. Dry swallowing more than the recommended dosage, he trudged to the kitchen to start his coffee. Scratching his belly, he looked out into the grey London morning. He yawned as he opened the door to get his paper before one of his neighbors' kids ran off with it.  
"Morning, Tom."  
He turned to his next door neighbor. "Morning, Vivienne."  
"Rough night or early morning?"  
"Both." She nodded, knowingly. He gave her a half wave before disappearing back into the apartment.

Vivienne looked away as Tom's door shut with a firm click. She heard him at night. The muffled screaming through the walls. The first night she'd heard it, she'd panicked. Now, she knew it was his night terrors, not unlike her own. She pursed her lips as she shut her own door. She wanted to reach out to him. To let him know that she was a kindred spirit, but she didn't know how.  
With a sigh, she dropped the basket on the floor just inside the door then immediately locked the door behind her. Knob, chain lock, padlock, bar lock then she checked them. Combing her fingers through her hair, she kicked off her shoes then dropped to the couch, hoping to catch a nap before she had to head into work.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom sat on the fire escape, looking up at the night sky. The glare of the city lights obscured the stars. A sacrifice that he regretted every time he looked up at the night. He missed the stars. But he missed his time with her under the stars more; those memories were too painful to touch. Searing pain shot through his head. His vision swam. Suddenly, there were lights everywhere in the sky. Lights and angelic wings that he couldn't quite focus on.  
He dropped forward off the stool on his knees. His eyes wide, mouth slack in awe. His shoulders slumped, the bottle of whiskey slipped from his fingertips to clatter against the metal rungs. There was a distant splash and an angry shout from some downstairs neighbor covered in whiskey rain. The lights swelled until they became one shining thing, obscuring the wings that fluttered loudly. Tom groaned then fell forward, darkness enveloping him. With the absence of the vision and the pain, he passed into sweet oblivion.

Vivienne's eyes were open but they didn't see. She was in a dream, walking along a never-ending corridor. Her fingers skimmed along the walls, looking for an exit, an escape. Her feet dragged along the hard wood floor. She didn't process the motions of her fingers as she opened the locks on the apartment door. She managed to get through three of them, jerking on the door before giving up. Furniture and knick knacks clattered to the floor.  
She tried the windows. Again, in her mind, she was in a dream. No longer in the corridor, when she'd come upon the door, she became trapped in a room. A room lined with windows. She couldn't describe what was on the other side. She couldn't make out anything but at the same time, she could see it clearly.  
Her fingers fumbled with the lock on the window. Air rushed in as she forced it open. She'd forgotten to put the pegs into the window for the fire escape. Vivienne climbed through the window. The night breeze caught her white satin night dress and whipped it back and forth about her legs. The cool metal bit the soles of her feet. She stumbled to the edge of the fire escape. In her dream, she was on a ledge and safety was on the other side of a gap. She need only jump.

Tom roused awake, groaning as small aches popped up throughout his body. He rolled over and looked up at the sky then squeezed his eyes closed. He sat up, slowly. Vivienne's window opened next to his. He twisted to look in her direction. She looked off. Her eyes were open, but she didn't acknowledge him sprawled on the fire escape. Usually, she a smart ass comment when she felt he was being an ass, an idiot or a fool. But that didn't matter. Look what happened to the last person who showed him any attention.  
"Viv, you alright?" She didn't answer. She looked around, her brow furrowing in confusion and concentration. "Hey, Viv." He pulled himself up. She started to climb over the railing of the fire escape. "Jesus, Vivienne!" He darted to her, grabbing her night dress between her shoulder blades. He leaned over from his fire escape, dangerously over the drop. She teetered on the rail. With a grunt, he jerked her back and dropped her on her ass. She looked surprised and dazed. "Vivienne? Answer me." She blinked at Tom but couldn't quite focus. "Stay there. You stay right there."  
He dropped back to his feet and climbed through his open window, running through his apartment. He threw open his door. His rush to her aide cam up short at her door. He only a few seconds to decide what he was going to do. His shoulder hit the door solidly. Again and a third time before the last lock gave way and spilled him into the living area.  
Tom took in the state of the apartment as he hurried to the window and climbed through onto her fire escape. She sat up, letting her head slump. "Vivienne?"  
"I'm sorry, Tom."  
"What was that about? Are you alright?"  
He crouched in front of her. He attempted to lift her chin, but she twisted away. "I'm fine. I'm an idiot."  
"Let me help you." He reached for her elbow.  
"I'm fine, Tom!" He let his head drop. She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. "Look, I'm sorry. Can we not do this out here?"  
"Alright." His face fell into a neutral mask. He let his hand fall. He'd just saved her from jumping to her death and here she was shouting at him. He stood and stepped back, allowing her room to get to her feet and climb in the window.  
He noticed the way the the night dress clung to her curves and left little to his imagination. She didn't seem to notice his noticing. Or if she did, she didn't care. He climbed in behind her. She stopped in front of him and looked around her apartment. In clear frustration, she threw her arms up then let them drop. She looked around for a jacket or sweater. Tom shrugged out of his and handed it to her.  
"Thank you." Vivienne looked down then back up as she pulled the button down over her shoulders and wrapped it around her body. "I'm sorry. For getting you involved and for shouting at you."  
"Involved in what?"  
"I sleep walk. I have since I was a child." She dropped to the coffee table and pressed her knees together.  
"So that's what that was."  
She nodded. "I never remember my dreams. I never remember what I've done while I've walked." She looked around to the chaos that was her apartment. "I usually wake up to a mess. If I can get through the locks, I wake up in traffic, blocks away, in stores or restaurants. " She shrugged. "This isn't the first time I've tried to jump either. I forgot to put the pegs in."  
"Do you know what started it?"  
"Traumatic life event. I became an orphan."  
"Oh, I'm sorry." So she knew tragedy as well. He began to see her in a different light. Her distance from himself and the other tenants. not unlike his own, was a cushion.  
She twisted around and grabbed a small wooden box. The tiny hinges gave a squeak. She set it on her knees and pulled out a lighter and a hand-rolled joint. He watched her close the box and set it aside then bring the tapered tip to her lips. The lighter flared to life and she touched it to the tip, filling the immediate area with the telltale smell. She inhaled deeply, held it in her lungs then let it out slowly.  
Tom shook his head when she offered it to him. Yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away her mouth as she brought it to her lips or the roll of the white smoke as she exhaled. They sat in silence as she smoked the joint.  
"My parents and two brothers died in a fire when I was nine. I managed to escape because my bedroom was just inside the back door. Everyone else slept upstairs. And they didn't make it out." She looked down at her lap then up at him. She swung her ass around to sit on the couch. No, sit was the wrong word. She conformed to the couch. Her closed knees swayed back and forth then she brought a bare foot and pushed her toes gently against his knee. "So you know my heart ache, what's yours?"  
He frowned and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"  
"Oh please, Tom, we've lived next door to each other for almost two years. I've heard your screams. Your night terrors. Don't make me ask who she is."  
He glared up at her as she stood up. "What makes you think I'd tell you?"  
"Because we all have to tell our secret pain to someone sometime." She touched his cheek lightly. "Thanks for the fire escape. I'm gonna take a shower. Let yourself out." She slipped out of his shirt and dropped it in his lap. He looked at it then at her back as she walked away. He looked away when she shrugged out of the night dress and let it drop then stepped out of it and disappeared into a doorway.  
Tom sat there until he heard the water turn on then he rose slowly. A part of him wanted to go to her. To share his pain. But he just couldn't. He remembered the light and the wings. He secured her door as best he could before returning to his apartment.  
The canvas thunked onto the ledge of the easel. He looked at it, seeing the image that compelled him to paint. He set up the paints on the board then set to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom sat on the floor, staring at the painting. He'd been painting and sculpting non-stop for two weeks. He'd barely eaten, but he'd drank plenty, mainly whiskey and water. He'd been a man possessed. Consumed. And while he'd worked, there had been no pain. In his head, his heart or his soul. His head fell back and he fell into an uncomfortable sleep, snoring loudly and truth be told drunkenly.  
Her voice. He snapped awake and looked around. He'd heard her voice. She'd been talking to him, telling something. Something important. He heard Vivienne's key in her new door. Her throaty contralto speaking to Across-the-hall.  
"You can definitely tell it's a full moon. Thanks for the cereal treats." Her door shut with a soft click.  
Tom jumped up and ran into the bathroom. "Bloody hell, you look like shit, old boy." He splashed some water on his face, rubbing his hand over the scruff of two week's growth on his face. He checked his breath then took a swig of mouthwash. Swish and spit. His fingers combed through his hair. He darted for the door then came right back to relieve himself.

Vivienne dropped her purse on the couch then pulled the scrub top off, tossing it into the light pile on her floor. That's as far as she got on laundry day. Separating then she'd been consumed in a book. She scratched the top of her breast then unclasped her bra, sighing in relief and the gratification that only taking your bra off can achieve. The bra sailed through the air and landed on top of the scrub top.  
She pulled on a soft pink jersey camisole and shimmied out of her scrub pants. She started to pull on a pair of jeans then thought better of it. Rummaging through the fridge rewarded her with a beer and a menu for takeout. A loud rapid knock scared the hell out of her.  
"Tom?" The door muffled her voice by the peephole. Surprise wasn't the word. Shock was more like it. She unlocked the locks and opened the door, leaning against the knob. "You ok?"  
"You need to come see this." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the apartment and into the hall, oblivious to her state of undress.  
"Hey!"  
Tom dragged her into his apartment. Vivienne stopped resisting, instead taking the opportunity to take in unknown territory. He was neat and clean. Memories of London practically etched their existence on the area she could see. Whiskey and water bottles littered the floor. He shoved her in the direction of the painting and sculpture.  
"What do you think?" He raked his hand through his hair, resting the other on his hip.  
Vivienne took in the painting and the sculpture. "Wow...you did-did you do this, Tom?"  
"Yea." He looked around and began picking up the bottles.  
"It, I mean, they're amazing." She examined the painting. Her fingertips ghosted above the brush strokes. "I didn't know you painted." Or were religious for that matter, she finished in her head.  
"Grief counselor said to take up a hobby." His voice at her shoulder made her jump. She turned slightly and he was right there. His eyes shone with sleep deprivation. "Never knew I could paint until the car accident."  
She side-stepped to the sculpture, away from Tom, sparing a glance over her shoulder at him. "This is amazing. You did this?" Her fingertips traced the minute lines and details.  
"The sculpting is new. I never-I mean, I hadn't tried before but the wings...they wanted out of the stone."  
Vivienne pulled her attention away from the works of art and focused it on her neighbor. "Tom, when was the last time you slept?"  
"Before you came home." It hadn't been for very long she suspected.  
She rested her hands on his shoulders and looked into his face. "Come, sit down. I'll get you a beer and we'll order something. You like Chinese? When was the last time you ate?"  
"Sometime last week."  
"Christ, Tom, sit down." But he didn't sit down. He went to the painting and peered at it. Vivienne opened the fridge and was assaulted with the stench of spoiled food. She scrunched up her face and slammed the door. "Alright, let's get you fed. Have you at least showered?"  
"No, do I smell?" He raised his arm and smelled his armpit. "I smell. I'm sorry. I'll go shower now."  
"Tom." He darted for the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. "Tom!" She grabbed his arm as he reached for his pants. "Slow down." He whirled on her, a kind of madness in his eyes. "Tom, listen to me. Are you on something? Did you take anything?"  
"No, fuck Vivi, I'm not a bloody junkie." He twisted out of her grip and turned the shower on.  
"Tom, slow down." He rushed past her to the bedroom and began rifling through the hamper. "Tom. Tom!" She touched his shoulder. He spun on her and grabbed her wrist. They both froze and looked to his hand. He slowly, carefully let her go. She took a step back. "You know what, you shower. I'll go back to my apartment and order us some Chinese. Maybe a nice, hot shower will clear your head."  
"No!"  
Vivienne froze. She was familiar with this kind of mania in her patients, being a mental health nurse. She never would have suspected her quiet, reserved neighbor of harboring a mental illness. Tom's eyes gleamed, fever bright. He closed the distance between them with a single step. She started to step back then his mouth crushed to hers.  
A rough, demanding kiss possessed him, full of the fever he was caught in. She stiffened but his hands grabbed her waist and pulled her body against his. He growled with this possession and deepened the kiss until her tongue and teeth fought back. Her fingers twisted in his hair and pulled. He grunted with the spike of desire and pushed her back against the wall. His knee came up between her legs and ground the soft flesh behind the flimsy satin barrier.  
Vivienne cried out with the rough friction, caught between the pulse of passion this unbelievable encounter had caused and the unwelcome fear. Despite how good it felt, she reached back and slapped him hard against his right cheek. He stepped back and held his cheek, coming to some of his senses. She rolled around the door jam and ran from the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

An hour later, Vivienne sat on her couch, her knees hugged to her chest. Her brain and feelings tried to wrap around what just happened. She looked up at the soft knock on her door. This time when she opened the door for him, she kept the chain in place.  
"Peace offering." He held a six pack through the opening. He'd showered and shaved. He wore clean clothes and the madness didn't shine in his eyes when he looked up at her from under his eyebrows. They looked sad and broken, lost...alone.  
The chain grated as she slid it free. "Care to explain what just happened?" She let the door swing open, keeping some distance between them. Tom stepped in and closed the door with his elbow.  
He set the sixer and the brown paper sack of fragrant Chinese on the coffee table. Vivienne drew her knees up to put a barrier between them. "A week ago, the uh...the night you almost jumped...I had a vision." He wrung his hands, his eyes fixed on the twisting and pulling fingers rather than her face. "The painting and the sculpture...that's what I saw. I've never...Vivienne, I was like a man possessed." He shrugged. "Maybe I was."  
"You know how crazy that sounds?"  
"I do. And if you were anyone else, I wouldn't have told you." He turned his body toward her and she drew up. He flinched. He knew he deserved that. "I'm sorry, Vivi. I didn't mean to scare or hurt you. I shouldn't have touched you like that. That wasn't-that isn't me." He laid his hand over her foot then pulled it away. "Can you forgive me? Will you?"  
Vivienne looked at him for a moment then sighed and dropped her knees. "Alright, but just know that if you lay your hands on me again, the next concussive therapy you get will be more than a slap."  
He blinked then chuckled. "Concuss-Alright." He clapped his hands together then rubbed them. "I hope you're hungry. I didn't know what you liked so I ordered a couple different things."  
She scooted closer, plucking an egg roll from the bag. Tom eyed her, waiting for the tension to break. She opened a beer and handed it to him then opened one for herself. He waited until she took a drink before cautiously taking his own, looking at her over the top of the bottle. He knew he'd have to do more that a six pack of beer and Chinese takeout to make up for what had happened.


	4. Chapter 4

Vivienne sat in the overstuffed chair. It felt far too comfortable to belong in her psychiatrist’s office. Then again, she said that every month for the last 10 years. Her shrink, a deadpan though sweet woman, folded her hands in her lap and looked at her client.  
“You said you had something happen.”  
Vivienne shifted in the chair. “My neighbor Tom…”  
“The handsome Englishman.”  
“That’s him. Apparently, I forgot to peg the window for the fire escape and I nearly jumped. If he hadn’t been on his fire escape, I’d be a statistic right now.”  
“Well, that’s not ideal. What were you dreaming of?”  
“The hall again and the room.”  
“Any fire this time?”  
Vivienne shook her head, but the doc waited for her to vocalize. “No, I was just trapped.”  
“Dream analysis would say you feel trapped in your life right now, Vivienne.”  
“I do…It’s the same day. Over and over. Nothing changes.”  
“Expect for Tom.”  
“What?” Vivienne looked up from her nails.  
“You’ve never mentioned anyone else in our sessions but him.”  
“I…I like him. But he’s very standoffish. Except…”  
“Except what?”  
“Day before yesterday, he kissed me.”  
The shrink grinned. “Well, that’s quite a development.”  
Vivienne laughed. “Don’t get too excited, Margaret. He was in a manic episode.”  
“How so?”  
“You gonna make me tell the whole story, aren’t you?” Margaret the shrink raised an eyebrow. “You are.” Vivienne sighed. “Ok, I’d just gotten home from work and stripped down when he pounds on my door, wanting to show me something. He drags me over to his apartment in my underwear to show me this marvelous painting and sculpture. I had no idea he was an artist. And he’s good, Margaret. But the whole time, he’s amped, way amped. I asked him if he was on anything but he denied it. Then he kissed me.”  
“Well…” Margaret scribbled notes on the paper in her lap. “Did anything else happen?”  
“I slapped him. I was scared and I ran. He came over with beer and Chinese food to apologize.”  
“Did you forgive him?”  
“I did.”  
“Did you enjoy the kiss?”  
Vivienne scoffed. “Did I-did I enjoy the kiss? Yes but he’d lost it.”  
“Lost it how?”  
“I told you he was amped the entire time. Then he starts talking about visions.”  
“During the manic episode?”  
“No, after. When he was calm.”  
“Did he tell you what kind of visions?”  
“Just that he painted and sculpted what he’d seen.”  
“Do you believe him? About the visions.”  
Vivienne looked at her nails. “I don’t know, Margaret.”

Tom squinted behind the sunglasses. The bright light of the day aggravated a dull migraine. He shifted his bag of groceries and bag of art supplies. Across-the-hall held the door to the building open for him.  
“You ok, man? You lookin’ a little white.”  
“Migraine.”  
Across-the-hall hissed through his teeth. “Sorry, man. You take care.” Tom nodded and began the slow climb up the stairs to his apartment. Each flight of stairs weighed heavier on his head. As he reached the fifth floor, the pain stabbed through him. He let out strangled groan. The pain made him lose all function in his arms.  
The bags tumbled from his arms, spilling their contents onto the landing and the stairs. His vision went black and he was falling. Stars rushed past him. His hands would have scrabbled for purchase had there been anything to grab onto. A vast openness stretched out before and below him. The strangled groan came again. His wide staring eyes saw nothing. Then the pain abated. His face struck the floor of the landing with a meaty slap. Blood oozed from his nostrils and his wide staring eyes fluttered closed.

The elevator doors slid closed as Vivienne opened the door to the building. She sighed. She was tired after a long shift. Drained, even. She could wait until it came back down or she could take the stairs. One required less effort, the other was faster. She chose the stairs.  
Rounding the first flight between the fourth and fifth floors, apples and paint pots rested in random places on the stairs and floor. That’s when she saw him. Her training kicked in. “Tom?” She knelt beside him, oblivious to the blood she knelt in. “Tom, can you hear me?” He didn’t move. She pulled out her cellphone and dialed the ambulance.


	5. Chapter 5

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor finally woke the patient. His blurry eyes opened to a dimly lit room. He tried to sit up, but he felt drained and achy from head to toe, like he’d been beat by a group. He groaned, yet still tried to sit up, figuring out he was in a hospital bed.  
The blonde in the chair roused herself then unfurled. He squinted in the shadow of her face. His heart skipped a beat thinking it was her. She stretched, breathing in through her nose then stood. No, it wasn’t her. This one was too tall. But he liked this one. She smiled at him when she saw him watching her.  
“Hey, you’re awake.”  
“Where am I?”  
“You’re at the hospital. Do you remember anything?” She hit the call button for the nurse. He shook his head. “I found you in the stairwell.”  
He nodded. “I took the stairs because I hate the lift.”  
She gently laid her hand on his. “You were unconscious, bleeding from the nose.”  
“I was falling.”  
“You fell? Well, the doctors ran some tests to check you for head trauma.”  
“No.” His hand turned under hers and grabbed it. “I was falling. Through the heavens. It was beautiful, Vivi.” He relaxed into the pillows. The nurse came in to check his vitals and ask him pertinent questions. He wouldn’t let go of Vivienne’s hand.  
“You look good, Tom. The doctor will be in to discuss the results of your tests as soon as he makes his rounds.”  
Tom nodded. He waited until the nurse left before saying anything else. “Thank you, Vivienne.”  
“For what?”  
“Staying with me.” His thumb caressed over the back of her hand. “I know you’ve been kind of thrust into this, but I appreciate you.”  
“It’s alright, Tom.” She gently took her hand back and sat back into the chair. She waited until he fell asleep before she got up to leave.

Vivienne knocked on the door to the hospital room the following afternoon. Tom looked up at her over the top of his glasses. He smiled but it was sad, lost.  
“You look pretty good, mister.”  
“I feel pretty good. Doctor says I can go home. All the tests came back clean, only evidence of migraines.”  
“That’s fantastic.”  
He nodded. “Only catch is since they can’t explain why I passed out and had a nose bleed, they want me under observation.”  
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?”  
“It is. But they want a few more days of observation.”  
“That’s awful that you’ll be stuck here.”  
“I won’t…I uh, I volunteered you.”  
“What?” Vivienne paused in the process of sitting.  
“Now look, I don’t get on with people and well, you’re a nurse and we’re comfortable with each other. So I thought you wouldn’t mind.”  
“Tom, I don’t know…”  
“Please? I’ll give you a key, so you can check on me whenever. We’ll swap numbers so you can keep tabs on me. I just…I don’t want to be in here any longer than I have to be.” He pleaded to her with his swimming eyes and words.  
She sighed. “Alright.” She didn’t know how well this would go but at least with her being a mental health nurse, she could help him if he became manic again. Tom glanced at her as he picked up his book again. He needed to get home. To his canvas and stone.


	6. Chapter 6

Vivienne rolled over. The temperature was slightly warmer than she liked. She rolled back as it became uncomfortable. Her eyes shot open. The room was engulfed in flames. She threw back the covers and jumped up, running for the door. She fumbled with the locks, frantically.  
Tom grabbed her around the waist. He’d heard not to wake a sleep walker, but she was panicked and in clear distress. She began to flail and kick. He grunted as her elbow caught him in the side then the chin as he walked her backwards. He kept having to look behind him because he was in her apartment. He clumsily turned on the shower, full blast cold. Tom wrapped his arms around her chest.  
Vivienne sputtered awake. “What the-“  
“You were panicking. I didn’t know what to do.”  
They stood under the freezing spray for a moment then she began to scream. He held her tighter as she bucked and cried. When the screaming and the tears stopped, her legs went out with them. They sunk to the tile floor. He hushed her and rocked her back and forth.  
“What’s wrong with me? Why won’t this stop?”  
Tom turned off the water and held her to his chest, the both of them shivering. “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason my night terrors don’t stop.”  
“What’s that?”  
“The grief counselor called it ‘survivor’s guilt’.”  
Vivienne noticed a smear of paint on his shirt that smelled awfully fresh. She leaned back, making his loosen his arms around her. “You’ve been painting, haven’t you?”  
“I don’t see-“  
“Tom, how am I supposed to observe you when you’re not even in the apartment?” She sighed and raked her hand through her wet hair. She felt like a drowned rat, probably looked like one too. “How long?”  
“Only an hour.”  
“But you were asleep when I went to bed.”  
“I woke up and wanted to paint. I’m a grown man so I went to my apartment to paint.” His gaze flicked to her chest. Her dusky nipples had pebbled in the cold shower and the air against them. He cleared his throat even as their image shot straight to his groin. Vivienne stood.  
“Out.”  
“What?”  
“I’m going to take a shower. Get out.” He mumbled ‘right’ as he stood and stepped out of the shower. “Towel’s behind the door.”  
The shower turned back on and steam began to fill the room. The metal rings of the shower curtain sang along the metal rod. She dropped her shirt and shorts onto the floor from the side of the curtain. He swallowed. He should go. He should turn around and leave. He’d withstood temptation for this long. He could withstand the temptation that Vivienne presented. He peeled the wet shirt off then dried off his chest and back, as well as his hair, before he wriggled out of his jeans. Tom dried off his legs, ignoring the growing erection. If he touched it, it would be worse. He wrapped the towel around his waist then picked up his wet clothes. “I’ll be back.”  
“Fine.”  
When he returned, she sat on the couch with two cups of tea on the coffee table. For lack of a better word, she was sprawled on the couch, her head over the arm. White smoke rose from her lips. He raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Want a hit?”  
“I told you, I don’t smoke.”  
“It’ll relax you.”  
“No thank you.” She shrugged. “But I hate to remind you, you’re sitting on my temporary bed.”  
She stretched out. “Looks like you’ll have to stay up until I’m done.”  
He sighed and dropped into the empty chair. “Why do you smoke that?”  
“It’s better than Xanax and Ambien.” Tom couldn’t help the way his gaze traveled along her body. The tension he’d relieved in his own shower came rushing back. “So how much did you get painted?”  
“Not a lot.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Would you mind if tomorrow night we stayed in my apartment? I’ll let you have the bed and I’ll take the couch. I’d just really like to paint.”  
“We can do that. But you have to spring for pizza.”  
“Deal. Now, are you done so we can go back to bed?”  
She sat up with a dramatic sigh. “Yes…” She brushed the backs of her thighs along his knees. He tried to stamp down on the electric pulse of her skin on his skin. He watched her walk down the hall. Two years, he’d made it two years and now his celibacy was threatened by a woman, a friend, who wasn’t even trying.


	7. Chapter 7

Vivienne lay on the couch and watched Thomas paint. She suspected he was sliding into a manic episode. He had zoned in to the canvas. She watched his arms move with the brush strokes. The way his back muscles moved under the tee shirt sent warmth pinging through her. She began to think of his back moving while he did other things.  
“Let’s not think about that, shall we.” She jumped up and went into his kitchen. She popped open another can of soda and refilled her bowl of grapes. She nearly dropped them when she returned and he’d taken off his shirt. Focus on the painting, Viv. She watched his hands move and began to think of those hands painting invisible brush strokes on her body. She sighed and resigned herself to watching him in bubbling sexual frustration.  
~  
Thomas could see every color, every stroke on the canvas before he committed it. It popped out at him. Just like the wings, he felt no pain. He needed to bring life to the vision. Once he did that, he’d tell her. He glanced at her as he refilled the paints. She sat in his chair, in her camisole and short shorts. He found himself longing to run his tongue up that bare leg and bury it in her cunt that was hiding in the shadows of her shorts. His cock twitched at the thought and licked his lips. He actually turned and took a step before he stopped himself and turned back to the paints. He had to focus. To bring the vision out of the canvas. He’d think about these feelings, this affection and attraction for Vivienne after.  
~  
The bed smelled like him. Earl grey, his sweat, his cologne, a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. She sighed and rolled over in the bed. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his back muscles flexing. She wondered what the front looked like. Maybe tomorrow, she'd sit on his fire escape and watch him paint. No, that might prove to be too distracting. Hell, he wasn’t even in here and he was distracting her, keeping her from sleeping.  
Vivienne hugged his pillow her chest and breathed deep. She’d been a loner most of her life, so why did she want to let him in? He was clearly standoffish. But that kiss they’d shared had been electric. If he hadn’t been scaring her, she’d have enjoyed it.  
~  
The sun began to creep over the skyline. Thomas wiped his brow. His chest heaved with exertion even though he’d only been painting. He glanced to his chair and she’d gone. But his locks remained secure. Shit, the window in the bedroom. Had he locked it? He couldn’t remember. He dropped the brush and the paint pot on his work table and ran to the bedroom.  
Moonlight illuminated her sleeping form. The ceiling fan turned slowly, keeping the room a comfortable temperature. She’d thrown her leg over wadded up blankets. His fingers twitched. He wanted to run them up that bare skin. He had no idea where this desire to touch her had come from. As he stood there, the vibrating energy that had been compelling him to paint washed out of him. His shoulders slumped with the weight of his sudden lethargy. Instead of turning around and going out to the couch, he climbed into bed alongside her. He scooted up against her back. In her slumber, she nestled back into him. He lay his head on the pillow with hers, sliding his arm underneath. He draped his arm over her waist. She sighed. He had the fleeting thought of how natural and comfortable, warm and soft she felt against him before he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun filtered in the through the billowing curtains. Vivienne shivered in the slight breeze and rolled over into the warmth at her back. That solid warmth sighed through its nose and adjusted its arm to hold her closer, snuggling into her even as her snuggling stopped and she began to wake up. Her eyes opened to a paint streaked bare chest that smelled of sweat, paint thinner and whiskey. Cautiously, her fingers danced along his waist until she wrapped her arm around him.  
His voice rumbled from the chest in front of her, a gruff sleep-thick drawl. “In case you’re planning on punching me or kneeing me in the dick, I can explain.”  
She smiled to herself. “Well, I hadn’t been but explain.”  
He brushed the hair from her forehead, an intimate action that made her look up at him. “I forgot to lock the window. Looks like I forgot to close it too. So I came to check on you. You looked so comfortable and I became so tired. I’m sorry if you feel I was out of line.”  
“I didn’t open the window?”  
“No, in fact, you were in my arms all night.”  
Vivienne sat up. “Wait. You’re saying that I stayed in this bed. All night.”  
“Unless you got up before I came in here, yeah.” He propped himself up on his elbows, giving the room a cursory look before looking back at her. “Place seems to be in the same order as yesterday.” She hopped up off the bed and began to pace, looking about the room then back to him. “Something the matter?”  
Tom noticed the way she hugged herself, the fear but the hope that warred on her face and in her eyes. “I didn’t sleep walk. If I had, there’d be a mess. I’ve never been in the room. I would have trashed it.”  
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”  
She began to twist her hands. “I haven’t had a night where I didn’t sleep walk since I was twelve.” She didn’t know what this meant, what it could mean. Tom didn’t see the weight of it either.  
He stretched and lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. “Would you mind making some coffee while I shower?”  
She blinked. “Oh, okay…” She pulled on her jeans then left the bedroom, glancing over her shoulder at him. His attention hadn’t left the ceiling fan.  
He looked up as he heard her going through the cabinets. Thank god! He was thankful she’d moved when she had or she’d have gotten his semi-hard cock in her belly. He was thankful of the blankets over his body because the more she paced and he watched the harder he became. His eyes drank in her dusky nipples that poked against her camisole, the way her panties had tucked into her slit and he could see the definition of her ass cheeks and the outline of her pussy lips in the front, the glimpses of her bare flesh on her back and belly between the camisole and the panties, the biting her lip and the way her hair fell just so.  
This wasn’t normal for him. The only woman he’d become aroused for in years was his late fiancee. He hadn’t even watched porn. Self-pleasure came to memories of their times together. But he found himself wanting Vivienne, to touch and taste, to feel. He threw the covers back and stripped. He ignored his dark pink erection and ran the water hot.

The whiskey burned going down so he quenched the fire with water. His brushes moved where he willed them, pulling the colors out of the canvas. This was the second day Vivienne had left him to go to work. And he’d painted the entire time. By the time he heard the apartment door open, he felt satisfied he’d brought the vision to life. He counted the twenty steps from his door to where he stood. Her fingertips touched his shoulder.  
“Have you been painting all day again?”  
“It’s done.”  
“Well, I’d hope so. You’ve been painting for 3 days solid.”  
He mirrored her fingers on his collarbone. He wanted to touch her. To share this moment with a touch of someone who had touched him. But that felt like he was betraying his fiancee. He turned. “I stopped to eat with you and sleep. With you.”  
“Yes, because you promised you wouldn’t let that madness take you again.”  
He glanced at the clock. “You’re late.”  
“You’re timing me now?” She raised an eyebrow at him then walked away to the kitchen. He wiped his hands on a rag then finger combed his hair.  
“No, I mean-“  
She smiled at him over her shoulder as she opened the fridge door. “I’m just messing with you. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist.”  
“Oh, I see.”  
“I wasn’t worried about you. I knew you’d be where I found you.”  
Tom stopped right behind her. “Why’s that?”  
She turned around and into him. “Because I left you whiskey, water, your cigarettes, lighter and ashtray and,” She stood on her tip toes to look over his shoulder, “an uneaten lunch within reach of your work area.”  
He swallowed. “Vivi, I-“ She turned back to the fridge and pulled out a pair of steaks and a bottle of wine. “What’s that for?”  
“To celebrate you finishing the painting.”  
He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t. The lump in his throat choked off his words. “That’s... You didn’t have to do that.”  
“I know I didn’t.” She closed the fridge door with a bump of her hip. “Now, you get to work on that piece of stone over there. I’m going next door to change and fire up the grill.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “It really is magnificent. I'll take a closer look after it’s had a chance to dry. You’re so talented. You should really look into an agent or a gallery showing. Something.”  
Tom watched her leave the apartment. His chest clenched with emotion. He couldn’t remember the last time someone praised him without prompting or wanting something for themselves. It had to have been his fiancee. He couldn’t remember when someone had done something special for him. Again, it was his fiancee. Because he’d cut everyone off. He’d eased the pain by leaving London, leaving England. He’d crossed an ocean to run away from the memories and the pain that had chased him and haunted him for two years.  
He should shower. He should comb his hair and put on a shirt. He should go next door and help her. Music wafted in the open window from the fire escape. Her voice sang along. He looked out of the window and there she stood, sipping a beer with the sun in her hair. The way the light hit it… He looked at the painting of the wings. No, it couldn’t be. He shook his head then rubbed his hands with lotion.  
The sound of Vivienne’s singing and the delicious aroma of steak on the grill swirled around him as he laid his hands on the stone. He looked at the painting as he touched it, smoothed it, and caressed it. Then the image of the vision filled his mind and fingers. The stars needed out. Tom set to work.


	9. Chapter 9

“Tom.” He felt her hands on his shoulders. “Tom, you’ve been at the stone for over 24 hours. Please, take a step away.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tried to pull him away. “Please don’t do this.”  
He half turned and pushed her away. “I’m fine. Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  
She fell back a step and let his shoulders go. “You said that four times last night and I’m headed into work.” She could smell the whiskey and sweat on him.  
“Then go.”  
“Tom-“  
“Just go!” He slammed his chisel on the work bench. His body heaved. Vivienne had flinched at the slamming and his yelling. He snapped around. “Go, Vivienne.” His eyes were shimmering. He opened his mouth to say something then snapped it closed and turned away. “It’s almost done. Just-“ He sighed deeply. He practically felt her fear beat against him. Was she afraid of him? Or for him? “Just let me finish it.”  
Vivienne took in the defeated slump of his shoulders. She sighed and touched his bare back. “I’ll go. But when I get home, you’re taking a shower and getting some sleep.”  
Home? She’d called his apartment home. Or had she meant just home from work? He couldn’t pin down how this made him feel. But when he wasn’t possessed by the visions, he wanted her here. His head whipped up as she opened the door. “You are coming back.”  
“Yes, Tom.” Vivienne closed the door behind her with a firm pull. She wasn’t sure this was good for them. But she was sleeping through the night and when he was sleeping, he didn’t have night terrors. That meant something, didn’t it?

Tom kept glancing at the stone. Sometimes he couldn’t believe his hands had created these things. He set his book down and looked at the clock again. She should have been home by now. He’d finished the sculpture just past one in the afternoon. He’d cleaned up the work area then showered and shaved. He’d also decimated the dinner she’d left him from last night. Then he’d promptly thrown up. But hunger gnawed at him again so he decided to surprise her.  
The timer for the oven went off. He jumped to his feet and pulled out the Shepard's pie then replaced it with a cherry pie. Again, he looked at the clock. Even if she’d had an appointment, she should be home by now. He picked up his phone and started to dial her number when a number he didn’t recognize began to ring.  
“Tom Hiddleston?”  
“Yes?”  
“I work with County General. A Vivienne Lee was brought in by ambulance and you’re listed in her emergency contacts.”  
“Is she alright?”  
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that over the phone, sir.”  
“Well, what happened?”  
“There was a car accident. Ms. Lee stopped to help but was struck by a vehicle on scene.”  
“I’ll be right down.”

The emergency room doors hissed as he ran in, weaving around people and equipment in the hall. He stopped at the nurse’s station. His fingers raked through his hair as he stood there. The fear and worry that gnawed at his gut told him that he’d begun to care about her. He looked around frantically.  
“Excuse me. Excuse me, can someone please help me?”  
“What is it, sir?”  
“I’m looking for Vivienne Lee. I was called to come down here.”  
“Oh, the nurse that was hit by the truck.”  
“Yes, that’s her. Can I see her? Is she alright?”  
“Are you family, sir?”  
“No.”  
“Then I can’t tell you-“  
“I’m her boyfriend. Someone called me and told me she’d been brought in by ambulance.”  
The woman sighed and sat down at the computer. She typed and clicked. “You need to go to admitting. Someone there will tell you what’s going on. She’s not in the ER anymore.”  
“Thank you.” He darted off, following the signs on the wall. Again, he waited at the admitting desk until a girl who looked too young to be working there came to see him.  
“Are you Tom?”  
“Yes.”  
“Vivienne is in recovery. She gave us permission to give you information before she went into surgery.”  
“Surgery? Is she alright?”  
“I don’t know, sir. But I can take you up to the recovery room and maybe they can tell you something.”

Vivienne felt like she’d been run over by a truck. She groaned then began to whine and cry. Machines beeped. She thought she could hear Tom’s voice calling for the nurse.  
“Ms. Lee?” A bright light shined in her eyes. Her pupil contracted. When she raised her arm to shield her eyes, it felt heavy. “It’s alright. How are you feeling?”  
“Like hell.”  
The nurse chuckled. “I imagine. Do you know where you’re at?”  
“Hospital?”  
“That’s right. You were hit by a truck.”  
“That feels about right.”  
The nurse chuckled again as she took her vitals. “You’ve got a broken wrist and forearm, as well as a broken leg and some cracked ribs. Some of your internal organs are bruised. You’re going to be in a lot of pain.”  
“Fuck.”  
“You just hit that button if you need anything. You’re on a drip, so you shouldn’t feel any pain. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.” Vivienne watched the nurse leave. She finally made out Tom standing next to the door.  
“I know you wanted me to stop working, but this is a little extreme, love.” Vivienne didn’t say anything, but she reached out for him. And he came. He grabbed her hand tightly and sat down on the edge of the bed. “The doctor says you’re lucky.”  
“I don’t feel it.”  
“The broken leg and ribs are where the truck clipped you. The wrist and forearm are where you tried to catch yourself.” He brushed the hair from her face. “No head injury, thank god.” He swallowed and looked down, hiding the tears in his eyes.  
“Is it done?”  
“It’s done.” He blinked them back then looked at her. “I need to tell you.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “Why I left London. It was raining. There was an accident. A bridge was washed out by a flash flood. My fiancee…they…” He took a deep breath. “They never found her body. She-she had just told me I was going to be a father.”  
“Oh, Tom.”  
He laid his finger on her lips. “You are the first person I’ve let in since that happened. I’ve shut everyone else out, cut them off. I’ve tried to eke out an existence until my ticket was punched and I could join them.” His thumb caressed over her lips. “But then you tried to jump off a fire escape.”  
“I didn’t-“  
He hushed her. “These last couple months, I haven’t wanted to die. I’ve…I’ve felt alive. And the dull ache that’s been there for the last two years isn’t quite so hopeless. When-“ He took a shaky breath. “When they called me and told me that you’d been hurt, I knew the depths of my feelings. I knew. I think she sent me the visions to drive me closer to you. To help me move on. That sounds crazy.”  
“Will you just shut up and kiss me?” He chuckled then leaned down and kissed her gently. Thunder cracked outside. It began to rain as he nuzzled her nose with his. He thought his life had ended with a thunderstorm once. Now, it was beginning again with one.


End file.
